Shared Memories
by Eden Evergreen
Summary: (VQL # 4.5) On their third anniversary, Vash and his wife reminisce about how they became a couple. (Over 1,000 years post-manga. Somehow a few minor spoilers managed to sneak in). Some overlap with "Vash, Vindicated" yet also a fair supply of new scenes and conversations. :)
1. Third Anniversary Morning

I do not own Trigun / Vash or Rem: they belong to the incredible Yasuhiro Nightow.

This tale begins 1021 years post-manga (different final battle and results than in the anime). And yes, sadly, I couldn't seem to entirely avoid spoilers. Again. Sorry. :(

**Author's Note:**_Parts of this tale are a 'mirrored' perspective to the time covered during chapters 4-7 of __"Vash, Vindicated." __ This version includes several scenes not in the other story, but some overlap does exist. This is the reason I call it "VQL 4.5" instead of labeling it as a 5__th__ installment._

_Dedicated with thanks to "JasperK." Without JasperK's request that sent my mind on this particular ricochet, this story would never have happened.__ :)_

**Third Anniversary Morning**

Vash eased away from his still-sleeping wife, careful to adjust the blankets so that he wouldn't make a draft in the process. He thought about kissing her, but decided he didn't want to wake her just yet.

He stretched luxuriously, like a sleepy cat, and enjoyed feeling the way his body responded. Everything was working smoothly, and he felt more thoroughly alive than he had in centuries. There were certain advantages to being married to a doctor with Plant healing abilities.

He looked again at his wife as she slept. Thankfully, he'd not found a single black hair on her head. He would keep checking, though. She was such a giving soul; he sometimes worried she might not be taking enough care of herself.

Shyla was a gentle and quiet girl, who had become a part of the Seeds ship village when he brought her here almost a thousand years ago. It was the safest place he knew to take a young plant girl whose human family had died. Even if her human mother hadn't suggested taking her away, he'd have been unwilling to leave her alone among small-town humans who might one day take a dim view of her differences.

He'd known Shyla loved him then. He'd mistakenly thought that she was like many other children, simply loving any adult who has been a close friend to their family. He'd expected, at that time, that she would grow busy with her own life and mostly forget him. While hoping that they would remain friends, he had expected the closeness from living as next-door neighbors would wear off.

Instead, to his surprise and eventual delight, they had gradually continued growing closer over the course of several centuries. And then, one day, when he looked into her eyes, he finally found what he had most longed to see.

He proposed, and she accepted. That was three years ago, yesterday. Three years ago today, they had married.

His affectionate glance took in her shining golden hair and her pleasantly plain face. He saw the way the blankets both revealed and concealed her otherwise slender figure with the substantial bulge in her middle around their soon-to-arrive fifth set of twins. He smiled.

Vash had always loved every living soul on No Man's Land. Yet he'd not known it was possible, until comparatively recently, to love anyone so very much as he'd come to love his wife and children.

The best part was that she loved him at least as much as he loved her. That blessing alone exceeded most of his wistful daydreams. The children all adored him, too. It was an added bonus that she was a plant, like him. She was unlikely to die of natural causes after 50-60 years, which was a problem with all of his normal human friends.

He and his wife could continue to enjoy each other's company, perhaps for thousands of years, if she remained careful about expending plant energy. Their children should be able to continue their legacy, long after they were gone.

He leaned over and gently kissed her face. She smiled in her sleep, and whispered his name. He could tell from her emotional echoes that she was not awake, but drifting in a dream.

He smiled again, and eased himself out from under the blankets and off the bed. He didn't want to disturb her. He liked the way she looked, even when asleep.

The morning air was cool enough on his skin to make him shiver, so he quickly pulled on some unders, pajamas, slippers, and a bathrobe. Ah, that felt better.

He glanced at the bedside table. There lay the meshes that he used to need to hold together parts of his scarred body. They were optional now, so he didn't wear them when in bed. Shyla wanted him to wear them whenever he left the village, as added protection in case anyone attacked him. In recent centuries, he was only targeted by criminals.

Next to the meshes was his deputy marshal's star. He wouldn't need that today, either. He had taken the day off from teaching at the academy, since it was his anniversary.

He wandered out of the bedroom, yawning, and glanced across the balcony. None of the children were up yet, nor was Rem. He wandered downstairs to the kitchen, and made himself a mug of hot chocolate.

Mug in hand, he sat at the table and breathed a deep sigh of satisfaction. He enjoyed the quiet. He raised his mug as if in a salute, and then drank deeply. He continued looking in the general direction of December, many hundreds of iles away.

"You were mistaken, my friend," he said softly. "I _can_ live and enjoy a quiet life if I try. I only wish you could have lived to enjoy it with me."

He sighed again, this time more from sorrow than content. "Milly would have taken good care of you, as she eventually did for Livio after you were gone. She would have loved you with her whole heart, you know. That's the kind of girl she was."

Milly. That reminded him. He fell to speculating over possible names for the upcoming twins. They had only a little over a week to prepare. The nursery was ready, but name choices were being elusive.

Two more little girls would soon join their busy household. He considered naming one of them Milly. Somehow, he liked that idea. Nicholas and her other older brothers would help look after her as she grew. Young Rem and her other older sisters would help out, too.

Unfortunately, the name that wanted to come paired with Milly was Meryl. He was uncomfortable with the idea of naming one of his children after that petite firecracker, since he well remembered that Meryl had so badly wanted to be more than a friend. Even though he'd never reciprocated, unless you counted that one kissed-fist fist-bump, it still somehow felt inappropriate.

Perhaps Milly Meryl and ... drat, the pair of names he'd thought up for the other girl slipped out of his mind.

Suddenly he grinned widely. Over a thousand years ago, when he'd traveled with Wolfwood and the insurance girls, he'd never have imagined a day would come when his biggest concern was what to name his soon-to-be-born twin daughters.

It felt good to be so peaceful, after so many long years of strife.

He heard a step on the balcony, and looked up to see Shyla wrapped in a robe and pajamas. He smiled at her, saw her smile in return, and watched as she descended the stairs.

In her own words, Shyla had reached the late-pregnancy stage where she was "as big as a house and twice as clumsy." Her balance was thrown off by the weight she carried, and her walk was nearer to a waddle than at any other time of her life. Yet to him, she lost none of her appeal.

(Good morning, dearest.) Her affection wrapped around him, and his smile widened.

(Good morning, Mayfly.) He shared his affection with her, and felt her inner smile in response.

(You never have told me why you started calling me that.) Her amused curiosity rippled through their shared thoughts and emotions like a bubbling brook.

(You never shared the memories of how you fell in love with me, either.) That was the one anniversary gift he craved most. He'd fallen asleep last night, after they coupled, trying to decide how he should ask her for this.

She blinked, and blushed. (I ... didn't think that would interest you. I just wanted to enjoy being with you, and not fret over those days.) He felt her embarrassment, and he shared understanding.

He remembered a few mistakes and misunderstandings from those days that would redden his own face clear out to his ears... if he let himself dwell on them.

(If you will share your memories, I'll share mine,) she offered.

Uh oh. He hadn't expected that. (I'll ... keep that in mind.) Suddenly he had a better appreciation of her embarrassment, and a mild inclination to keep a few details private.

In his case, that was 967 years, nearly a millennium! He contemplated some serious editing, but realized that would be unfair. No, if he was going to share, it should be full disclosure. That's what he wanted from her, and she deserved no less.

(For you, it couldn't have been more than months,) he thought to her in mild protest. (There was no sign that you felt that way about me the prior time we met, for the exhibition match.)

(I think you started it that day, though.) He could feel that she was thinking and remembering. She had only just realized something as she shared those thoughts. (I loved you dearly then, just not in a marriage type of way.)

(I know.) He did the mental equivalent of a caress. (But how did I start it?)

(Do you remember that morning, when we exercised together?)

(Yes.)

(The way you looked at me, and kissed me, it made me feel strange. It was a good kind of strange, but I think that's what first got me barely beginning to notice you as a woman toward a man. Then when you were injured...) Her emotions suddenly spiked with pain, combined with an intensity of affection that had an undercurrent of remembered fear.

(You got me through that.) He sent love and gratitude, and she surprised him with the same. She was grateful to him for surviving? He supposed that made sense. She seemed as happy with him as he was with her. Knowing that he made her happy enhanced his own happiness.

He considered briefly, and saw that wistful look on her face before she turned to begin making breakfast for the family. He knew what that look meant. She was nervous that he'd leave, and rarely return, as he'd done for nine centuries prior to their marriage. Perhaps if she knew just how long and how deeply he'd wanted to be with her, mistakes and all, it would help her to relax.

(It will take me a little while to prepare. There are ... several centuries to cover. Or I could give you those memories in installments.) He began that preparation, thankful that he was able to multi-task. He need not neglect her in the present while he tended to the past. He began sorting through some of his earlier memories of his changing feelings as he awaited her response.

He felt her surprise. (Several centuries?) Now her emotions felt confused.

Again, he gave her a mental caress, and added affection. (Sweet Mayfly, didn't you understand? That's why I spent so many years away, even after I'd faked my own death and Sheriff Central had awarded the bounty.) He paused to let her absorb that.

(You were... avoiding me?) More confusion.

(You weren't ready to marry anyone yet.) He sent affection, and reminded her how protective he was toward her. (I needed to let you be free to learn your own heart in your own time.)

(But... hadn't you found a different plant lady that you loved, at first?) Her emotions still echoed of confusion. (I felt you wanting marriage so many times over the centuries. I'm sorry she was too foolish to love you as you deserve.)

(There was never anyone else.) He couldn't conceal his surprise at her mistake, though he realized it was probably a very natural one under the circumstances. (I stayed away, not because of anyone else. I simply didn't want anything to happen between us only because you'd figured out what I wanted.)

Shyla set aside the cooking things, and came around the table to where he sat. She put her arms around his shoulders, and he pulled her onto his lap. He could feel in her emotions that she was deeply moved as he put his arms around her and held her close.

(They were both right and wrong at the same time.)

(Who?)

(The ones who blamed me for your long absence.)

(I was never angry with you.) He focused his affection toward her, and his sincerity, as he continued preparing memories to share with her.

(I know that now. I had no idea then.) She shared more affection with him.

(I'm sorry you were hurt by my absence.) Even with the children in her belly kicking at both of them, it felt good to hold her. He could sense their pre-linguistic thoughts and emotions, which brought a smile to his face.

(It's over now, that's the most important thing.) She held onto him tightly, with tears trickling down her cheeks.

(I think I have one installment's worth of romantic memories ready, if you want it now.) He felt her reaction: immediate joy.

(I have also gathered most of my memories, of the type that you requested.)

Reaching across to share consciousness with another plant required plant energy... not much, but he dared not spend any at all. He had perhaps four blonde hairs left. Shyla, however, could spend that tiny amount without risk. He opened his mind to her.

She adjusted her position slightly so that their foreheads could touch, and entered his mind with the same gentle respect and affection that she always radiated when she visited him this way. They exchanged memory packages, and she smiled and caressed him before she withdrew. He returned her caress, closed his mental barriers again, and made certain she did the same.

She pulled her face away just enough to smile at him. He smiled also. (Happy Anniversary, Mayfly.)

...

...

...

...

**Author's Note:**_Hopefully, this story should be able to stand alone. However, it is also a companion story to__ "Vash, Vindicated"__ that is a sequel to__ "Rem Returns" - __which follows__ "Vash's Long Road to Home," __which follows__ "Vash's Quiet Life." __There's also an associated "free verse" poem titled__ "Too Late," __and a semi-associated collection of shorter stories,__ "Search for a Stampede."_

_ (Just in case anyone happens to be interested in reading any more of what I imagine might follow the manga's end.) _;-)

_There are also two companion tales to this story written by the highly talented_ "JasperK": "Stasis" _and_ "With This Ring." _Please give them a read, if you haven't already read them. Thanks!_ :)


	2. Preparations

I do not own Trigun / Vash or Rem: they belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

**Preparations**

Vash returned upstairs after breakfast, and flopped comfortably onto their bed. He'd opened Shyla's memory package immediately, but had no time to process while eating and helping the children. Now that he had a few minutes to himself, he began...

...

Early on the morning of their 850th-ish exhibition match, Shyla came downstairs in her pajamas and hung her podiatry diploma and certification on the wall in the ground floor sitting area. Vash was still sleeping upstairs in the guest room for a little longer. She'd wanted to have the certificates up before he arrived, but other preparations had taken precedence.

Those certificates completed a lengthy list of courses related to medical and biological studies. There was nothing more in either of those areas that the Seeds ship village instructors could teach her. Lessons would no longer be an obstacle (or excuse?) to prevent her from occasionally leaving town.

She hoped she could go with Vash when he left this time, but suspected that might not happen. If not, at least she could go along with the other Seeds doctors who traveled periodically.

Sometimes, another town had a special-case patient or some disaster that would be mitigated by additional medical personnel. When that happened, Seeds would loan what manpower (and womanpower) they could.

Thankfully, the one convalescent currently recovering in her house was an elderly woman who was a very sound sleeper. The small tapping needful to hang the two framed papers did not disturb her. Shyla had chosen a wall that was not shared with the lady's room to be extra-sure of that.

She returned upstairs, and saw that Vash had opened his door a little. She went to her room and quickly changed into her exercise clothes: comfortable knee-length pants, and a sleeveless top. No footgear was needed. She braided her hair, tied it, and returned to Vash's door.

"Come in," he said cheerfully, in response to her soft knock.

He was wearing his own exercise clothing, which consisted of a pair of very loose-fitting drawstring pants that were also secured at the ankles, and an equally baggy sleeveless top. She wondered if he wore things that oversized to limit chafing against his scars, but hadn't the courage to ask him.

She knew he was sensitive about his scars. Any mention of them might seem like an unwelcome invasion of privacy. So she remained silent on that topic.

"Good morning," she said softly, and saw him smile.

She knew that his smile was meant to be welcoming and reassuring, but she saw how troubled his eyes were. Since that day when he'd left without saying goodbye, 966 years ago, he'd only shared thoughts with her once. That had been to inform her he'd come for an unplanned visit to the village, and to ask her to come see him.

She wanted to try to help him with whatever it was that troubled him, or at least comfort him. Since he said and shared nothing, though, she let his silence remain unbroken. It made her heart ache to see him like this, but she could do nothing unless he allowed it.

She felt his warm affection, and responded in kind.

...

Vash briefly pulled back out of Shyla's later memories to recall his own memories of that long-ago unplanned visit. It had been a very difficult situation. Unfortunately, he was the only one who could resolve it.

It had taken a lot of talking from both himself and Rem to persuade Shyla to identify those who'd been harassing her. Even then, she'd been ashamed and inclined to blame herself.

The three of them had slept that night in the unused crew quarters of the hovering Seeds ship itself. He'd deliberately left the doors to that room wide open, so others could wander by and see them all three innocently sleeping on separate bunks.

He'd also instructed his body to wake if anyone entered. That made for several wakings during the night, when ever someone got so curious that they stepped into the doorway. Thankfully, they always left quickly when he stirred. He wasn't in a mood for pranks, however well-intentioned.

The first time he woke, he'd checked to see that neither Rem nor Shyla had been disturbed. Rem lay on a bunk at right-angles to the one he rested on, her dark hair fanned about her. There was something soul-calming about the beautifully peaceful expression on her face.

He listened to the soft breathing of the two ladies so dear to his heart, and braced himself for a quick peek at Shyla. He looked where she slept, and saw her pale hair looking almost like spun silver in the dim light. She lay so that she half-hugged the pillow where her head rested.

Vash had quickly settled back on his own bunk, and lay there staring up at the ceiling while counting to two hundred in an effort to distract himself. It wasn't working.

Looking at Shyla had been a mistake. He curled up on his right side and buried his face in his hand, wishing that he were that pillow Shyla held. He blinked as tears pricked at his eyes. He sincerely loved her, and wrestled with a strong desire for her that - best case - was premature. It was also possible that she would never reciprocate.

The pathetic nature of his wish to replace her pillow stirred up the loneliness that had silted up the bottom of his soul. He pulled the blankets over his head so that neither woman would hear him crying.

The next morning, he'd needed to deal with the reason he had come to visit Seeds Village sooner than planned.

Some of the village's children had taken it upon themselves to punish Shyla for his prolonged absence. They would hurl insults and accusations at her, along with Thomas dung. His brief visit, along with some stern words to both the children and parents involved (in the presence of a village leader), had put a stop to it.

He'd told them how disappointed he was by such terrible behavior. He'd also instructed them to fling the dung at him instead of Shyla, if they ever again wished to pelt someone with such substances. That would hurt him less than knowing they'd done it to his friend.

Learning that he was not displeased with Shyla had shaken them, and ended the overt persecution against her. It had not cured all ill feelings, but it had at least compelled the people who disliked her to stop expressing it in ways that would hurt her so badly.

It had not escaped his notice that everyone involved was descended from a woman who had once been infatuated with him during her youth. She'd seen him bring Shyla to the village, even though she'd married someone else by that time.

She must have been jealous enough to dislike Shyla for his attention toward her. Shyla's disposition made it impossible that she could have done anything to that woman to directly earn such dislike. The woman's children had apparently absorbed her dislike, and spread it to their own descendants.

Vash fervently hoped that the generation he'd scolded would end such an unhealthy trend. He made a mental note to check on their descendants, and do whatever was in his power to make sure there was no lingering difficulty between them and Shyla.

He glanced at a clock, and saw that he still had some time before he'd need to clean up for the family portrait. So he again closed his eyes, and returned to Shyla's memories of that day four years ago, when she felt she'd first begun to think of him as a man... instead of as a close friend who chanced to be male.

...

"Shall we begin?" he asked, moving toward the door.

"I think I'm ready," she answered. "Though I probably won't do as well as you do, since I spend so much time holding still tending patients."

"You always give me a run for my money," he said mischievously as he passed her to walk through the doorway.

She followed him into the upstairs sitting room, which had more floor space than any of the other upstairs rooms because of the differently-arranged furniture it contained.

They methodically worked their way through Vash's exercise routine. When they reached the mock shooting part, Shyla took a position that guarded his back and let him guard hers. After the mock-shooting practice, they did more exercises. They ended with additional handstand push-ups.

This time, she saw that he kept going even after exceeding the usual number by a fair margin. He grinned at her, so she kept going too. Apparently he wanted to see how long each of them could keep going, and who would tire first.

She admired how his muscles moved so smoothly under the skin of his arm. Even his numerous scars could not conceal that. Her own muscles were inclined to complain and cramp at the extra exercise.

Naturally, her more sedentary lifestyle resulted in her giving out first. When she felt her arm give way, she curled into a somersault. She ended the somersault by laying flat on the floor with both of her arms over her head, giggling.

He dropped with graceful ease to a sitting position beside her, and laughed too. "You're doing better," he said approvingly. Then his face took on an exceptionally gentle expression that she'd never seen before.

He leaned over until he was reclining beside her, braced on his left elbow. He gently brushed back stray strands of hair from her face with his natural hand, and looked into her eyes.

"You can be pretty amazing at times," he said softly, still stroking her hair with gentle fingers. He slowly leaned toward her and gently kissed her cheek, lingering just enough for it to be unusual.

Then he abruptly sat up, turned away from her, and said, "We should wash up for breakfast. Don't want to keep your patient waiting." He flashed a brief smile over his shoulder, and was out the door before she could say or do anything.

Shyla sat up, and her fingers hovered over the place on her cheek where he'd kissed her. She didn't move for several minutes. She felt strange, and a little confused.

Always before, when he'd kissed her, it had been a very brief yet gentle chaste peck on cheek, forehead, or occasionally the top of her head. That one was different. It wasn't unpleasant - far from it! But somehow, it was very different from anything he'd ever done previously. He felt different as he did it, too.

She didn't know what to think or how to behave. She sat there trying to puzzle it out for a few minutes longer, and then decided that she would let his behavior guide her. Perhaps it had merely been an odd impulse that he'd already forgotten.

Finally, she went to wash up and face the rest of the day.

The day progressed much like any other day. Vash was out visiting everyone. She lived according to her usual routine, except for making extra food at mealtimes and enjoying seeing him come to eat with her.

Evening came right on schedule. Shyla saw to it that her single convalescent guest had dinner and was settled for the night.

Then it was time for the practice duel with Vash before the exhibition matches. The two of them, Vash and Shyla, would compete against a few other teams who wanted to try their luck against the two plants.

He walked into the small practice arena smiling, with a blindfold in one hand. His light gun rested in the holster on his hip, just as hers was in a holster strapped to her own leg.

She wanted to look at him sternly because of the blindfold, but couldn't help smiling back. When he was blindfolded, she could tie with him or occasionally outscore him. When he could see, he always won - even if only by a narrow margin.

She hoped the presence of the blindfold wasn't mocking her skills.

He put on the blindfold and asked her to start the duel. She did, and outscored him by a single point. She couldn't help admiring his grace, speed and accuracy as they dueled.

He always seemed to move so smoothly, while she herself felt as if she was all elbows and knees. The distraction of admiring his natural grace in movement might have contributed to her only outscoring him by one point, and not by a wider margin.

He whipped off the blindfold, grinning. "Should I wear this during the exhibition matches?" he asked. "It might give our opponents higher scores, which could make them feel better... even if they still don't win."

"They might view it as you mocking their skills," she said softly. "Some of those guys get really sensitive about losing, and if they lost while you were blindfolded..."

He frowned. "I'd never intentionally mock their efforts," he said. "They're trying to hone their skills, so they can protect others. I want to encourage that. If they might misinterpret my effort to balance things that way, then I won't wear it." He quickly stuffed the offending cloth into a pocket and dismissed it.

"It's probably time. Shall we?" He offered her his arm, smiling.

She smiled in return, and linked her arm in his. They walked up to the main arena to begin their exhibition matches against other teams.

...

Vash smiled at the memories, and continued...


	3. Tag

I do not own Trigun / Vash or Rem: they belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

**Tag**

Vash continued experiencing Shyla's memories, smiling.

...

A bell signaled the end of the final exhibition match, and Shyla holstered her weapon. She turned to see that Vash had already holstered his own light gun, and that he was grinning as if he already knew what would be announced.

Sometimes when he played any variation of this game, he reminded her of a child with a new toy. There was something endearing about seeing that, in him.

The announcer spoke. "The scores have been tallied. The winning team is: Nate Saverem and Shyla Jones."

Some in the crowd cheered, though others sounded disappointed. It wasn't an official tournament match, nor an official training match. The loss wouldn't count against the other team, but it was good experience for them.

Vash caught her hand and raised it with his own in a triumphal salute to the crowd, and then led her out of the arena. That was their tradition, as it had been for the last 850 years.

Thankfully, the other team's members were good sports. They clapped her shoulder and Vash's, congratulating them with honest respect as they walked toward the exit.

She smiled at him and saw him smile in return. He gently squeezed her hand and then released it. "Have I told you lately what a good idea this was?" he said. "It's both practical, and fun."

She laughed. "Every year, at least," she replied. "I am glad that you still enjoy it," she added. "It seems to be good for others, also."

He grinned. "You don't seem to get tired of it either," he observed.

"I never disagree when you say that it's fun," she answered, still smiling.

Shyla had been excited when she'd found an obscure reference to a shooting game once played on Old Earth that used harmless beams of light instead of ammunition. She'd decided to try making it work here. She imagined that Vash might enjoy it, and anticipated his pleasure in playing it. She'd succeeded.

Vash had grown fascinated with the details of how the game worked, and together they had upgraded the computer program to generate random target configurations of varying difficulty levels on the walls, regardless of whether it was a solo or team challenge.

They'd also refined the targets worn for team competitions, so that the clicks weren't so loud. That could make finding opponents more challenging.

The improved version had gradually spread outside Seeds security people to their families and friends. Then a few started teaching their children basic weapon safety and the like using the rooms with the light targets that clicked when hit.

Not terribly long after Vash had been sworn in as a deputy marshal, his sharp shooting skills had attracted the attention of his superior officers. When asked how he became so good a marksman, he'd recommended playing this game.

Representatives from Sheriff Central came out to investigate, and the game was incorporated into training for all sheriffs and marshals. Quarterly training tournaments were established, helping trainees to hone their skills.

The annual open tournament gradually grew in popularity, until it became a tourist attraction. The income was good for the village, though it did have the drawback of making more people aware that it existed.

Vash and Shyla began doing annual "exhibition" matches against whomever wished to challenge them, because they had so many requests. Their exhibition matches had become almost as popular as the tournament itself.

Shyla gave all donations from her participation in the exhibition matches back to the village. She thought of it as partial repayment for all the assistance that they had given to her before she could earn her own keep by working at the infirmary.

Shyla saw Vash smile again, and then duck into the locker room for a shower. Rem slept peacefully in cryo this year, since Vash was barely staying one day and two nights. And that one day was busy and full.

It really wasn't a long enough visit this time to be worth waking her. Rem had only been awake a few days at a time, and those didn't happen every year. As a result, she'd barely aged even though nearly a thousand years had passed.

They arrived home quietly, considerate of the aging convalescent who was likely to be sleeping. Shyla had prepared after-competition snacks, and brought them up to the sitting room. She'd chosen two of Vash's favorites, salmon sandwiches and doughnuts. He smiled at her as he eagerly accepted the proffered food.

Though he still looked as if he wasn't a day over 25, Vash was really 1169 years old. Shyla privately hoped he would never change. He was so very dear exactly as he was.

Unfortunately, she sensed in him an aching longing and occasional wisps of desire. Those emotions had been growing stronger for several centuries. Those feelings meant that he wanted to marry somebody. She expected that at least part of the reason he was away so much was to be near that lady.

She hoped he would bring his wife to Seeds village, when ever he married. That way, she could become friends with his wife and maybe sometimes help to baby-sit the children.

She would miss him terribly if he left, never to return. She dreaded that possibility, but if it happened... she must not complain. Not if it meant he'd be happy.

"Have you completed another degree?" he asked her.

"Yes," she said, smiling. "Podiatry. This one finishes everything medical that's currently available to learn at the Academy here. I'll keep searching the computer, though. One never knows what might turn up."

"Congratulations," he said. "I expect you aced it, as usual?"

"I was at the top of my class," she said modestly. "Nearby towns sometimes want Seeds doctors, since they know we have access to knowledge and techniques that others have lost. The next time they go somewhere, I've been invited to go with them."

"Aren't you happy here?" he asked.

"Oh yes," she said earnestly. "I'm very thankful that you brought me here, and this will always be my home. However, that doesn't mean I never want to visit anyplace else."

He smiled. "I can understand that," he said. "I'm off in the morning," he added. "There's another troublesome bandit out by October, and they've assigned me to find him and bring him in."

Shyla's shoulders drooped, and she nodded. "They gained a valuable ally, when they swore you in as a deputy marshal," she said softly.

"It's working well, so far," he said. Then he chuckled. "They still think I'm the son of the infamous 'Vash the Stampede,' which explains my agelessness after more than 800 years. Thanks to my black hair, they're not afraid of me."

She looked up and smiled at him. "Perhaps they should be," she said. "The abilities you lost when your hair changed aren't the most dangerous thing about you."

"What makes me so dangerous?" he asked curiously.

"Your mind," she said. "You know things, and you are so very much more intelligent than you let on. You could do anything you wish, and none the wiser. It's a good thing you're you, with such a kind heart, and not... someone who would do harm."

"That's part of the reason why I use my mind to track down those who would do harm," he said. "To protect those who would otherwise be harmed."

"Even though you despise the paperwork," she teased.

"Yes," he agreed, laughing. "At least I've gained enough status that they let me dictate testimony so I don't have to spend any more of those nearly-endless days just sitting around uselessly at trials. They prefer to have me out hunting another fugitive, or else escorting someone through dangerous territory."

"It does keep you awfully busy," she said wistfully. "I hope they appreciate all that you do for them."

"Whether they do or not," he said, "I appreciate the opportunities to help. It gives me travel expenses to visit our sisters in the orbs, too."

She smiled. "Yes, it does," she said.

He yawned and stretched with his usual unconscious, athletic grace that she admired so much. "I'll give your game this, too," he said. "It wears a body out."

She nodded. "Yes, it's good exercise," she agreed. "And your room is ready for you."

"Thanks," he said, and stood. "I'm sorry to have to go so soon," he added. "Hopefully, in time, I won't need to be away quite so much."

"I hope so, too," she said softly.

He hugged her from the side, and kissed her hair, then went into his room.

She watched him go, and then her fingertips went to her cheek where he had kissed her that morning after exercising. Like his kiss just now, he'd lingered noticeably more than he ever had before.

It made her feel strange, this different way he'd kissed her today. Not a bad kind of strange, but still strange.

She realized that she could easily get used to being kissed like that, by him. She sighed. It was more likely that he was thinking of the lady he loved, and not realizing he was treating her any differently.

She would miss him when he married, and no longer came to stay with her.

Shyla quickly suppressed a selfish wish that he'd never leave, and went to her own room to sleep.

...

Vash opened his eyes and sat up, shaking his head and smiling fondly. Ah, dear Shyla, so quick to underestimate her own appeal. Small wonder she was a bit embarrassed when he requested her memories. She'd spent centuries believing that he wanted to marry someone else.

He hoped this morning's conversation, and the memories he shared with her, would lay that concern to rest forever.

He glanced at the time, and realized he should shower before the photographer arrived. He also needed to finish so that Shyla could have her own turn in the shower.

Humming contentedly, he got off the bed and walked into the bathroom.

...

...

...

...

**Author's note**: _the game they were playing is the No Man's Land version of Laser Tag. An opportunity for target practice, without using any expensive ammunition, seemed like something that Vash would take to like a duck takes to water_. :)


	4. Between Death and Life

I do not own Trigun / Vash or Rem: they belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

**Between Death and Life**

After showering, Vash wrapped a towel around his waist and used another to rub at his hair. He returned to the bedroom, and sat on the bed. Checking the time, he saw that he might be able to experience a few more of Shyla's memories before the photographer was expected.

He lay back on their bed, closed his eyes, and entered the past...

...

Shyla was eating an early breakfast in another town, when she suddenly cried out in pain. She dropped her fork, and her right hand clutched at her stomach. There were also terrible, deep burning pains in her chest: her left arm cradled that part of her body.

Looking down, she realized it was not her own body that had been injured. She reached out with her feelings, and sensed Vash surprisingly close by.

Dear God, no - not Vash!

Her left hand went to her temple, as a pain blazed there. She had to find him. Now. She stood, and began staggering toward the door of the cafeteria.

"What's wrong, Shyla?" Lumietta asked her.

"Nate, he's hurt," she said, "and close by. I must go to him, he needs help."

She could feel the orb sisters crying out all over the planet. "Red brother!" was echoing through her mind, and she felt their distress. She tried to shut her mind to their cries. She had to focus on finding him before it was too late. The orb sisters couldn't help her now.

Sometimes being a doctor had drawbacks. She knew from the echoes of physical pain in her own body that he'd been hit in vital areas. At least one of the bullets had hit him in a lung, and it felt like it had collapsed. She had to reach him quickly, or he would surely die of those wounds.

She did her best to suppress the echoed pain by force of will. She might need all her energy to keep him alive. She ran as hard and fast as she dared toward the desert, where she sensed him. She tried not to stumble too much as she ran, but it was difficult.

She was only a short distance outside town when she saw him climbing to the top of a sand dune, and then begin stumbling down the side toward her. "V-Nate!" she called as she ran toward him at her own top speed.

He fell, and she caught him. She shared her affection with him, hoping to help him hold on to his life in spite of the pain, shock, and loss of blood. His consciousness was fading. He didn't seem to know her.

"Men, at camp," he said weakly. "Need help..."

She felt him begin to slip away, and reached out with all of her abilities to hold him and heal him. She stopped his bleeding, a temporary yet vitally important measure. She could feel the drain.

She was unaccustomed to using her own power. Yet there had been no time to detour and consult any orb sisters, or collect any surplus energy they might have to offer. It had been essential that she come directly to him, as quickly as she possibly could.

She carefully lifted him, cradling him in her arms as if he were a very large baby, and carried him back to the hospital. She prayed at every swift step that she wouldn't drop him, and that he would live.

"Get me a gurney, stat!" she called as she backed through the doors of the hospital.

"A Seeds doctor needn't trouble herself with a dying gunshot victim. We can see that he gets buried outside town," someone said.

"I will _not_ allow this man to die," she snapped. "Get a bed for him, _now!_"

"All right, all right... here, this should do... but you're wasting your time."

"It's my time. I can waste it if I please." She glared at the man as she eased Vash onto the gurney as gently as possible. "Where shall I take him?"

She followed the reluctant orderly to an unoccupied room. He gingerly reached toward Vash, and something in his attitude offended her.

"Don't touch him!" she said. "I will take care of him myself. Go."

He grumbled, and others who had followed from curiosity also grumbled.

"He said there were men at his camp, also injured," she told them, more calmly. "If you need something to do, you may go in search of them. They might not be as badly hurt."

They left, still grumbling. They slammed the door behind them.

She dared not waste any time. She began tearing his clothes off. She needed to reach and tend his injuries before her stop-bleeding energy or her ability to hold his consciousness wore off.

She began to cry, sobbing at his echoed pain and at the horrible fear gripping her heart and soul. She didn't want to lose him, this friend, this... man. He was more precious to her than anyone or anything else.

She succeeded in removing all of his clothing, and found a suitable and soft cloth to begin washing away his blood. She had to get him cleaned up so the injuries wouldn't infect. And she needed to do it quickly, while her stop-bleeding effort lasted.

She also needed to make sure no insects were on him that might eat at his injuries. Sand would be unwelcome also, so she had to wash all of him... not only the areas where he was injured.

She wrapped the cloth around her hand, and began washing him as gently as she could. She lifted each of his long, lean limbs, washing it in turn. Eventually, she rolled him enough to wash his back. When every part of him had been carefully washed, she took another cloth and began drying him.

It was difficult to think like a doctor. She kept crying, and noticing his body in ways she had no business noticing... and in ways that she'd never noticed him before. Her hands and body trembled from an intensity of longing she had never before experienced.

As a doctor, she was no stranger to incompletely clothed males... of all ages. Some of the young bucks who were particularly proud of their bodies would "accidentally" uncover themselves, thinking to impress her. Never before had she experienced any physical reactions, no matter how aesthetically appealing the patient was.

Why, today of all days, did she find herself thinking about Vash's physical appearance? Things like how well he'd honed his body, how even the calluses on his hand only enhanced its perfection, or how well-shaped both of his long lean legs were... No. Just dry his skin. Gently. Don't think about that.

She knew enough about medical ethics to know she had no business letting her hands wander over a patient the way she found herself _wanting_ to touch him. She tried to shake off the distraction, and ignore all the strange sensations playing over her skin. She would _not_ take advantage of any patient. _Especially_ not this one. Ever.

Her job now, her only job, was to save his life. Nothing else mattered. She did her best to narrow her focus accordingly.

She bandaged his injuries, finishing just as the ability to stop his bleeding wore off. She gently covered him with soft blankets, to protect him from the cold. He must be in shock, and warmth was important to help him recover from that.

She touched his shoulder, gently, and renewed the reduction in pain that must be weakening by now. He didn't need that pain to contend with. He just needed to heal.

She placed her right hand into his right hand, and gently stroked his long black hair with her left. She could feel some type of emotional pain building in him, so she spoke and hoped he was conscious enough to hear her.

"Shh, it's all right," she said gently. "You're safe now. Just rest and get better. I won't leave you."

She didn't know if he understood or not. He lost the struggle to retain any awareness, which was especially dangerous in his condition. He likely had a concussion from the graze on his temple.

She quickly pulled a chair close enough to his bed that she could lean against the bed while sitting in it. She had to act immediately. There was no time to visit orb sisters.

The only possible way to save his life now required that she risk her own. She must send her own body into a dormant state, and pour all of her energy into healing him until his body could sustain itself again.

It meant that if he never woke up, neither would she. However, that didn't deter her or even cause her to hesitate. She wasn't sure she'd _want_ to wake up to live in a world without him.

Lumietta would know what to do, when she found them. It was unlikely that they would be separated, thus dooming both, with Lumietta around keeping on top of details.

Shyla laid her head on the edge of his pillow by his right shoulder, while still sitting in the chair. She took his right hand again, and made sure she was positioned to lean against the bed and not lose hold of his hand. Then she redirected her energy to flow into him, and collapsed with her hand in his.

...

She felt awareness fading back in. There were echoes of pain, and she felt terribly weak. She was lying against someone's right side, with her head on their shoulder. Thinking about what she could feel against her body, she realized that she lay beside a male.

She struggled to open her eyes, and finally succeeded. It was Vash... recollection came slowly.

His eyes snapped open, and he gasped from an intensity of pain.

"I'm sorry," She said weakly. Her head rested heavily on his shoulder. She had little power to move. She concentrated, struggled, and managed to renew the pain suppression. Talking hurt, so she sent thought instead. (There, is that better?)

"Yes," he said hoarsely. (Thank you.)

(Rest, please.) She was so weary and sleepy that she had difficulty forming thoughts well enough to communicate. She could barely breathe without pain; her exhaustion was so extreme. (We both need rest.)

She shared affection with him. She was also both concerned for him, and relieved. She could feel his body's warmth through the sheet. She could hear and feel his breathing and heartbeat. He was alive, and awake... even if the awake part was temporary. Sleep would be good now, to help him heal further.

He was alive. She closed her eyes, and offered up a brief heartfelt prayer of gratitude.

(What have you done?) he asked. He turned his head a little, and winced from pain.

(Hmm?) Her thoughts were drowsy, and starting to grow just a little disoriented. (I helped you to heal a little, that's all.)

(Don't endanger yourself for me, please.) He shared affectionate concern for her, and it was stronger than she would ever have expected. So kind of him to care about her...

(It's already done,) she responded sleepily. (I'd turn every hair on my head black for you, if you needed it. Better that than to live without you.)

(Shyla, I...) she could feel that he was grateful, but also worried.

She opened her eyes, and was again distracted by his physical beauty. Her fingers were resting over his collar bone by his throat, roughly where her eyes chanced to look when she could open them.

She moved her fingers just enough to stroke his throat, to feel the shape of that part of his body and to feel his life flowing through it. (You're so beautiful) she thought gently, smiling inside. She closed her eyes again as she drifted farther toward sleep.

She felt his hand move slightly, touching her hair and sleeve. She was very nearly asleep, and fading fast.

(Are you the one who washed me?) he asked nervously.

(Yes) her thoughts responded. She resisted sleep briefly, wanting to reassure him. (Don't worry, I used a cloth. I didn't touch you anywhere that you might not want to be touched.) She meant touching him directly with her skin, and hoped he understood that. She was too sleepy to form many thoughts that clearly now.

She felt embarrassment from him, and smiled in her thoughts again as she slipped deeper into drowsy sleepiness. She was slightly more blunt than she might have been if awake enough to edit her thoughts. (You've no reason to be embarrassed,) her thoughts gently assured him. (Except for your scars, you're perfect.)

He was alive. Each heartbeat seemed to proclaim that wonderful fact. Alive ... _Alive_... **ALIVE**!

The sound of his heartbeat proclaiming his life lulled her. She slipped the rest of the way into sleep, and for a time she knew no more.

...

Shyla had no idea how long she'd slept, but she waked enough to feel his physical warmth and his breathing again. She could still hear his heartbeat. She thought she ought to get off the bed, so she wouldn't accidentally press against any of his many injuries.

She tried to gather her strength, but she was so tired and she ached all over. Attempts to open her eyes and move her hand failed.

She heard voices at a distance.

"Yes, we found his camp and four injured men there. We brought them here. One's nearly well enough to get out of bed."

So... tired... so... very... tired...

...

She became aware of herself again, but was still too weary to lift her head off his shoulder. Her fingertips checked his throat, and his pulse seemed stronger than before. That was a relief. He still breathed, his heart still beat, and he was still warm. All good.

None came to help her off the bed while she was able to retain awareness. She drifted off into sleep again.

...

She drifted in and out several times, delighting in the awareness that he was alive even though she was too weak to move. Sometimes it felt as if there was another in the room, but since she remained too weak to speak or even open her eyes, she wasn't able to verify that possibility.

It was comforting to think that someone cared enough to be there for Vash. He deserved that care, and more. She smiled inwardly, comforted by knowing she wasn't the only one who loved him.

Listening to his heartbeat again lulled her back to sleep.

...

Finally, Shyla woke feeling nearly strong enough to move. She didn't attempt to move immediately, wanting to make sure that she could move without troubling him. She planned how she could get off the bed with minimum effort and minimum jostling of Vash or his injuries.

She realized that there as an IV tube in her arm. Someone must have come by, probably including Lumietta. She considered the needle and its tube, as she planned her movements to get off the narrow bed.

It took a few tries, but she finally managed to roll off. She fell onto the floor and would probably have a bruise or three to show for it. But she'd gotten off without jostling him or dislodging IV needles or tubes from either of them.

She crawled to the chair, and shakily climbed into it. She leaned against the bed in her prior position, with her head resting on the corner of his pillow near his shoulder.

It had taken perhaps two or three minutes to accomplish these changes, and she could feel that her energy was again spent.

She put her right hand into his again, and lost consciousness.

...

Shyla woke again, and this time managed to stand long enough to lift the sheet. Oh dear, he only had his bandages and blankets on! No wonder she'd felt his body heat so well when lying beside him.

She felt heat in her own face. She'd been lying beside Vash while he was effectively naked, and she had no idea how long that had continued. Her eyes moved down his body, and she still admired what she saw. She shook her head, and forced her eyes to his bandages.

The bandages were fresh and clean, and showed no blood. This was an encouraging sign.

The door to the room opened.

"Oh, good, you're awake," Lumietta said.

"Yes," Shyla said, gently laying the sheet over him and sitting back in the chair before her knees betrayed her. "His wounds have finally closed. We can leave whenever you like."

(There were four men injured, where I camped.) Vash's thoughts reached her mind, and she sensed a tension in him.

(We know.) She tried to make her thoughts reassuring, and to conceal her embarrassment. Had he felt her lift the sheet, or guessed what she'd been thinking or feeling? (We found them. They're recovering in other rooms. One may even be out of bed now.)

He relaxed. (Thank you.)

She shared her inner smile with him. (We're going home. I hope the ride won't be too painful for you, but we have better tools to help you finish healing there than here.)

(I've missed home.)

(And we've missed you. It's only a month until the next tournament, so I hope that you can stay with us at least until then.)

Suddenly, there was the sound of a commotion over by the doorway. Shyla looked toward the sound. Were those gunshots?

Shyla lunged to throw her own body across his, to protect him. She concentrated. She felt a surge of energy. A strangely garbled vocal sound, that contained no words, came out of her mouth. It hurt, but it worked... her defensive wings had emerged and were now extended over both of them.

(You've learned a lot while I was away.) He smiled into her mind.

She opened her eyes to smile at him, both inwardly and outwardly. (I didn't want you to be disappointed in me when you returned.)

(I've always been proud to know you, Shyla. Never disappointed.)

She blushed, thanked him in her thoughts, and turned her attention toward the doorway where the gunshots still sounded. She looked grim, and frowned.

"Stop this!" she shouted, nearly losing her temper as she glared at the gunman in the doorway. "There are injured people here!"

"What are you?" the gunman said, after a lengthy stream of profanity. "Get out of my way! That bastard took my brother off to jail. I'm gonna kill him!"

"She's a plant angel, who isn't in an orb," someone replied. He hit the gunman on the back of the neck, and the outlaw collapsed. The gunshots stilled. "Sorry about that, Miss," the sheriff's deputy's voice continued as he stepped into view. "Everything's under control now."

"Good," Shyla said. "I'd like to get this man home without further incidents, so that he can heal."

Her hopes were fulfilled.

...

Vash opened his eyes slowly, feeling contact with his skin. Shyla must have showered while he was deep in her memories. She was sitting beside him, her damp hair braided, and wearing only a bathrobe that couldn't quite wrap around her baby bulge.

Her fingertips were playing over his body in a most pleasant manner.

He smiled in both body and mind. (Good morning, again, Mayfly.)

(Good morning again, dearest. Why are you laying here daydreaming, when it's time to get ready?)

(Oh, I'm just learning a little more about you, from your memories.)

Her fingertips continued moving over his skin, growing more distracting. (Today should be spent more in the present than in the past,) she suggested. Her feelings were mildly reproving, yet so wrapped in affection that the reproof was very faint.

(You're just trying to distract me,) he accused.

(Is it working?) He could feel her smiling both inside and out as she sent that thought.

(I'll let you know,) he replied, and closed his eyes as if returning his focus to experiencing her memories.

She opened his towel, and...

"It's working!" He rolled toward her, smiling more widely, and yielded completely to the distraction.


	5. Change

I do not own Trigun / Vash or Rem: they belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

**Change**

After the family photograph was taken, lunch was eaten. This was followed by a wrestling match with all eight children that lasted until dinner time.

Vash was mildly impatient to give his body a rest, and let his mind explore more of Shyla's view of the past.

He shooed Rem and Shyla out of the kitchen, and offered to wash the dinner dishes even though it wasn't his turn. That task was simple enough that it he could concentrate on something else while he tended it.

His two most favorite ladies in the entire universe had their hands busy with the eight children he and Shyla had already produced. The youngsters were growing tired after their long afternoon of wrestling with him. It was likely that Rem and Shyla would be running them through washing up and going to bed early this evening.

All of which was fine with Vash. It meant more undisturbed time for him to enjoy Shyla's memories. Thankfully, he could do it while doing something useful, too.

He still felt both foolish and guilty for yielding to the temptation to remove his body armor the night before he was so badly injured. The leathers had needed airing out, and he'd taken that opportunity to get out of them.

He'd mistakenly thought that delivering one bandit to jail would be adequate to let him sleep safely out in the desert. His best information had been that the man's brother was nearly a hundred iles away.

Ah well, no way to turn back the clock and correct mistakes.

He didn't close his eyes this time, since he needed to pay some attention to the dishes. Yet he dove deeply into Shyla's memories all the same.

...

When they arrived at Seeds village, Shyla waked and accompanied Vash while he was installed in an infirmary room. He remained unconscious, since he was still very weak from his injuries. She gently kissed his forehead, lingering as he had done the day of the prior year's exhibition matches.

She was still feeling shaky from her unusual energy expenditure that was needed to preserve Vash's life, and then needing to extend her wings to protect them both so soon after. She had to move slowly, since her knees were feeling unreliable.

Thankfully, the shuttle had radioed ahead, so the room was ready for Vash when he arrived. She stepped into the hallway and started walking down it.

Shyla felt strange. The hallway seemed to be reeling around her, and there was darkness around the edges of her vision. She felt disoriented, and walked somewhat aimlessly until she found herself at the Cryo sleep center.

She arrived to look at Rem's empty tube. Then she remembered. They'd wakened Rem and brought her to the town while she and Vash had slept in synchronized stasis, while her energy had preserved his life.

She turned, reeling dizzily and stumbled. She lunged for the doorway, and caught it. She held on for the space of several heartbeats, until it seemed that the world stopped spinning so badly. She needed to get back to Vash.

She took only a few steps into the hallway before it turned so abruptly that the floor hit her on one side.

"Shyla?" She knew that voice. William Reeve, one of the Plant engineers. She tried to speak, tried to roll and stand. Turning over only made everything spin harder.

She'd generally enjoyed good health, so these symptoms disoriented her more than they might do to someone accustomed to experiencing bodily malfunctions periodically. She failed another attempt to stand, and caught herself on her hands and knees. Her mind was also reeling dizzily.

"Are you all right?" he asked, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"He's all right," Shyla said. "Vash is going to be all right..." it was all she could think or say.

He tried to help Shyla stand, but her knees buckled again. This time, the darkness at the edges of her vision spread to cover everything. She felt herself going limp, and then she knew no more.

...

Shyla heard a voice that sounded distant at first, but seemed to grow nearer as she became more fully awake.

"She's just exhausted," Lumietta said. "It's partly our fault. We forgot to make her eat something before the shuttle trip. She should be fine after a few days. We'll keep her here until then, just to be safe. We really don't know how much energy is used in the type of healing she did for him."

"I understand," Rem said. "I'll stay with them. Thank you for putting her in this room, too."

"She'll recover more swiftly if she can see him," Lumietta said. There was a knowing tone to her voice, and the way she pronounced the words suggested she was smiling.

"Put me next door," Shyla asked. She struggled to sit up, even though she couldn't seem to open her eyes. "Please, I don't..."

"You're staying right here, at least for now," Rem said firmly. "Knowing how he dislikes holding still, they've given him something to help him sleep. It's the best way to speed up his recovery. So he won't know why you're here. And he will be likely to gain strength from sensing you near."

Shyla relaxed. She was far too weary to struggle any further. "If you say so," she said sleepily. She'd never felt so tired before in her life. Even helping that little girl the same way, several years ago, hadn't drained her this severely. Though the four year old had less need, and she'd recovered more quickly.

And nobody shot at the little girl, requiring wing protection, as she was recovering.

She felt Rem's hand on her arm as the world faded away again.

...

When she awoke again, Rem was asleep in a chair between her bed and Vash's. She had one hand on each of them.

Footsteps caught her attention, and she saw Nancy bringing two trays of food. Rem stirred, perhaps wakened by the sound of the steps or by the smell of the food.

"Good, you're both awake," Nancy said. "I hope you like pizza pancakes, apples and pudding."

"Thank you," Rem said.

Shyla needed some help to sit up, but once propped with pillows she was able to feed herself. She'd not realized how hungry she was until she started eating.

She glanced past Rem to Vash, and saw that he'd been hooked up to an IV or two. Good, they should be feeding him that way. She smiled at Rem, who was looking toward her with a concerned expression.

"I'm all right, really," she said.

Rem smiled around a mouthful of food. When she swallowed, she said, "They checked for black hair, and were relieved that they didn't find any. You gave us all quite a scare."

"From one fainting spell?" Shyla said. She felt puzzled. It was true that she was generally healthy, but just fainting once shouldn't scare anybody that much.

"You're forgetting something," Rem said, sounding amused. "Vash promised dire consequences if they let you spend yourself into black hair."

"He wouldn't really harm them," Shyla said. "He's not like that."

"Generations ago, these people's ancestors would have known that," Rem said. "The ones now know the stories better than the man."

"That shouldn't scare you so much, though," Shyla said. "You know Vash, probably almost as well as I do."

Rem smiled again. "I've never seen him angry. I hear he can be like a force of nature when sufficiently annoyed."

Shyla considered this. Now that it was mentioned, she wasn't sure if she'd ever seen Vash angry, either. She'd known him for more than a thousand years, and could not recall ever once seeing him angry.

Still, she couldn't believe that a gentle soul like Vash would intentionally harm anyone without good cause. It would require a serious emergency, such as perhaps a situation where someone's life was hanging in the balance.

"He wasn't angry when he spoke with the villagers and their children after the dung-flinging situation?" Shyla's voice ended the sentence with a question. Suddenly, she wasn't sure.

Rem looked thoughtful. "He was, at first," she said. "He'd calmed down by the time we arrived here. He felt guilty for staying away so long that anyone would use his absence as an excuse to behave badly. He was greatly disappointed and saddened that they had behaved so _very_ badly."

"So what was he like when he was angry?" She couldn't help being curious.

"For the first time, I understood why people feared him," Rem said. "And he wasn't even angry at me. It was a very brief flare, before other emotions took its place, but... there's something exceptionally formidable about him when he's in that mood."

They returned their attention to their meal, and finished in thoughtful silence.

Ten days later, the infirmary released Shyla to go home. Since she had no patients there, she spent almost as much time in the infirmary as she had prior to her release, and in the same room.

Two weeks after they arrived in the village, the doctors permitted the sedative they administered to Vash to wear off. After he awoke, they were barely able to keep him in the infirmary for another week. He came to Shyla's house with Rem, where he was supposed to continue recovering.

...

One morning, only a few days after Vash came to her house, Shyla awoke from a dream about kissing him on the mouth. Her face reddened as she recalled it. She threw off her blankets, put her feet into her slippers, and stood up to reach for her robe.

Maybe cooking breakfast would help her to forget that dream.

She'd been struggling since Vash arrived. Whenever he came close to her, it made her skin feel strange. The sensation was not unpleasant, but it was very distracting.

She tried her best to behave as usual, and to feel the same as usual. Unfortunately, she felt like she was failing in both efforts.

That, along with an assortment of other odd reactions, informed Shyla that she was falling in love with Vash.

She couldn't allow herself to do that. She already knew that he wanted to marry someone. Falling in love with him, now, would only set herself up for heartache. She would selfishly want to be the person he'd want to marry, and that was extremely unlikely.

Shyla started making doughnuts. At least, while Vash was staying in her house, she could do that one small thing for him.

Rem came downstairs, yawning. "I thought I heard someone up," she said. "Good morning."

"Good morning," Shyla answered, and smiled at her.

Rem took one look at her face, and came to hug her. "What's wrong?"

Shyla felt tears welling up in her eyes, and heat in her face. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I've tried to act as usual. I didn't want to bother either of you."

Rem let go of her to step back just enough to look into her eyes. "I thought we were better friends than that," she said. "Please, tell me what's wrong. Sometimes it helps just to talk about it, and know someone understands and cares."

She looked into Rem's concerned eyes, and words came unbidden from her lips. "It's just that I love him too much," she said, barely loud enough for Rem to hear. "Somehow, I have to get myself under control. He wouldn't ... I..." she stopped, embarrassed and unable to express her feelings in words she would have the courage to speak.

"Him?" Rem inquired, raising one eyebrow.

Shyla glanced toward the upstairs part of her house, where Vash either still slept or had begun his morning exercises. Then she looked at Rem, silently pleading with her to understand. She was having trouble saying even this much.

"So Vash has become 'him' to you, has he?" Rem said thoughtfully. She smiled.

Shyla looked down, feeling the heat of embarrassment in her face. She turned back to her cooking.

"How can you love him too much?" Rem asked gently.

"This last year," Shyla confessed tearfully, still speaking very softly, "I keep catching myself thinking of him as... as a woman thinks of a man, instead of remembering him as my dear friend. I keep catching myself wanting to kiss him in ways that... he'd never want, at least not with me. I have to stop being so selfish..." she was very close to sobbing.

Before either of them could say another word, they heard his door open. Shyla gave Rem a look pleading that she not say anything to him of what they had just discussed, and she again felt the heat of embarrassment in her face.

Rem laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Good morning," Vash said cheerfully

"Good morning," Rem replied.

Shyla could hear the smile in Rem's voice as she spoke, but she turned her back toward Vash. She was still blushing, and more of the tears in her eyes had spilled over onto her cheeks. She tried to ignore all of those things, and instead focus on cooking.

"Is everything ok?" he asked.

"All will be well," Rem said, still smiling.

(?) Shyla felt Vash's thought in her mind.

She responded with no thoughts, only her warm affection for him tinged by a profound embarrassment that she couldn't entirely conceal.

(Anything I can do?) He shared affection with the inquiry.

She shook her head without turning.

He walked up behind her, and hugged her. "Are you sure?" he asked, too softly for even Rem to hear.

Shyla responded to his hug, snuggling back against him. It almost hurt when he touched her now, since she craved contact with him so much. (Thank you for offering, but no.)

(Let me know if that changes?)

She nodded, and shared affection.

He responded by sharing his own affection again, and slowly let go of her.

(Your doughnuts are ready.) Again, she shared affection, trying to keep it clean of the new longing that plagued her.

(Thank you.) He also shared affection, and concern, as he reached for the plate of doughnuts she offered him.

After a few more pancakes were fried, and the breakfast trays taken in to the convalescents, Shyla and Rem joined him at the table and ate.

Shyla was acutely uncomfortable. She couldn't even look up from her plate as Rem and Vash chatted over breakfast. She only managed to eat a few bites. Food caught in her throat, and didn't want to go down. She gave up on eating that morning, and just looked down at her plate and hoped somehow everything could get back to normal inside her.

After breakfast, Vash caught Shyla's shoulders and turned her toward him. With his right hand, he gently lifted her chin and shared affection and concern. (Are you all right?)

She again shared affection, trying to filter out the embarrassment and all her selfish cravings. She was hesitant to meet his gaze, fearful of what he might see if Rem had perceived so much from looking at her. However, she did finally look up into his eyes.

His left arm moved around her waist, and his right hand slid behind her neck. He gathered her into a hug and held her tightly for several heartbeats' worth of time.

She was surprised, and couldn't help being tense. He'd never hugged her directly from the front before. It felt so good, the way he was hugging her now. Her arms went around him, and, for a short time, she held on tightly, too.

Because she wanted to badly to continue clinging to him this way, she dared not let this embrace linger. As soon as she could persuade her arms to loosen their grip on him, she started to let go. He immediately released her. He kissed her forehead in that new, longer way and then stepped back.

"I... think I'll take a walk," he said. "I'll probably be back before lunch." He went upstairs to get a wrap from his bag, and then came back down. He quickly hugged each of them very briefly, and then walked out the door and away from the house.

"You should tell him," Rem said.

"I couldn't possibly!" Shyla said, horrified at the very idea. Again, the heat came to her face, and she felt like crying. "Somehow, I have to get this under control without letting it trouble him."

"Ok, I can tell him then." Rem said it flatly, not like a challenge but like an intention.

"No!" Shyla was shocked by Rem's offer, even though she knew it was well-meant. "Please, I beg you, say nothing to him."

Rem gave her a strange look. "I'll give you two weeks," she said, after a thoughtful pause. "If you don't tell him by then, I will."

Shyla opened her mouth to protest, but could find no words. She tried to beg silence again with just her eyes, but Rem looked resolved.

She turned away, and gave in to the sobs that had been welling up inside her all morning. Rem came and held her while she cried.

Shyla changed and went out for the usual daily games with the children, then returned to wash up and make lunch. Shortly after that, Vash returned.

"Good afternoon," he said. "I'm back."

Rem must have had a strange look on her face, because his next words seemed to be addressed to her.

"Don't worry, I'll go wash up," he said. "Don't have too much fun while I'm gone!"

Shyla couldn't face him. She hurriedly finished lunch and set it on the table. "I need to go," she said, "to the infirmary. Can you take care of serving lunch, please?"

Rem raised an eyebrow. "You should tell him," she repeated.

"I can't," Shyla said, "at least not now, not today. Please..."

Rem hugged her. "Ok, but I will tell him if you take too long. I think it would be good for both of you to talk about this. With each other, I mean."

"I have a patient to check," she said. "I'm sorry, I really should go."

Shyla hugged Rem back, and then made good her escape before Vash got downstairs.

...

The dishes were all washed, dried, and put away. He double-checked that each was in its proper place, since he hadn't really been concentrating as he worked.

The house was nearly quiet. The older children were getting a story read to them by Shyla in the sitting room, and the younger ones were probably getting a bath from Grandma Rem.

He smiled, and for a few moments, he simply let the peace and contentment of his home flood into his soul.

Then he went and sat with the older children, to listen to Shyla read. Or at least, he sat there to give he appearance of listening while he sampled more of her memories.


	6. A New Beginning

I do not own Trigun / Vash or Rem: they belong to the incredible Yasuhiro Nightow.

**A New Beginning**

(I think I'll read a different story,) Vash warned his wife as she continued with the bedtime story for their older children. (Nudge me or something if you need me.)

(You, sir, are dodging your fatherly responsibilities!) He could feel from her emotional echoes that she was teasing him. He smiled, both inwardly and outwardly.

(Guilty as charged,) he responded, (but only for today.)

He felt her inner laughter. (You may find yourself paying for it later,) she warned.

His smile only widened. (I'll deal with that as it comes.)

(Go ahead and remember then, before you make me lose track of the story I'm supposed to be reading to _our_ children.)

He closed his eyes, and let himself soak in her memories again.

...

When they retired upstairs, the evening after Shyla's awkward confession to Rem, they'd originally planned to spend a quiet evening together. However, Rem announced that she was tired and would spend the evening reading alone in her own room.

That left Shyla alone with Vash in the upstairs sitting room. She paused in the doorway, seeking an excuse to flee. He reached out his right hand to her, and she almost instinctively took it. He led her into the sitting room, to the largest couch. She sat down on one end of it and looked down at her knees.

He sat at the other end, as if understanding she was upset and offering her space to do whatever she wished. She appreciated the gesture, but was torn between wanting to be with him and wanting to run away.

She fidgeted at first, feeling like she didn't know what to do or say. She wanted things she felt she shouldn't want, and he was the focal point of every one of those awkward desires. "You must have opportunity to meet many interesting people in your travels," she said uncomfortably.

"Yes," he said. "Some of the people I meet are interesting."

"And plants, too," she said softly. She remained convinced that he loved a plant lady somewhere out there. That had to be the main reason he was so seldom here anymore. She could feel that craving in him, wanting to have a wife. She couldn't imagine what manner of woman would deny him that, if she knew he wanted it with her.

"Yes," he said. "I've met most of the plants on this world."

She suddenly realized one possible explanation. She moved to kneel on the floor by his feet before she lost the courage to speak or act. "Please, Vash," she said, very softly, "I beg you; let me restore your body enough that you're not half-injured in so many places."

Her blinked twice before asking, "Why does this trouble you now?"

"It's always troubled me," she admitted. "I didn't want to seem disrespectful of your choice. I can restore just enough that you're no longer halfway injured. I can even leave a visible scar if you prefer."

"I don't know..." he began.

"You've recovered enough from the latest injuries that you are again walking with your usual athletic grace," she said. "You can bear a little more regeneration without harm. Please, let me do this for you. Please?"

"You'd need energy," he began slowly.

"One of the orb sisters gave me her surplus earlier today," she said. "It will fade away, if not used soon. I can't heal all of your deep scars tonight, but I could begin. Please?"

The echoes of his emotions suggested that he felt uncertain, indecisive. So Shyla took matters into her own hands. She reached out and slowly pulled his boots off his unresisting feet. He wasn't resisting, that was a good sign... or at least, she hoped it was. She removed his socks, also.

She gently lifted his right foot onto her lap, and began healing the deep scar on his instep. After about twenty minutes, she had reduced his foot scar to a mere skin blemish. The nerves were restored, as was the flesh.

She moved her hands away, and looked up at him. She half expected him to be angry that she had done this without express permission, and tried to brace herself for his displeasure.

He flexed his foot and toes experimentally. "That is better," he said slowly, his surprise evident in his voice as well as his emotions.

"You would need to remove clothing," she said, "if I'm to continue working on your legs."

He said nothing as he grabbed an afghan to spread across his hips and cover his undergarment, and then slipped his jeans off underneath. That uncovered his legs for her.

This served as permission.

"Thank you," she said softly. She closed her eyes, and began on the next scar. Little by little, she worked her way up to his knee. She verified that she'd not missed anything by lightly running her fingertips over his shin and foot. Then she released that leg.

She traded to the other leg, and did the same. She leaned her cheek against his knee as she worked, and her fingers occasionally stroked his skin between scars. She wished she could control her hands better, and not do that. God help her, it felt so good to touch him...

When she ran out of stored energy, the scar she was currently tending was 95% finished. She hesitated briefly, and then finished that one with her own energy. After that, she gently stroked his lower leg as she checked to verify that she had not missed anything.

"If you'll permit me," she said, "I'll do more tomorrow."

"Only if the orb sisters have surplus," he said. "I don't want you spending yourself over something this minor."

"It's not minor, and they will," she said, looking up at him defiantly. She instantly felt more gently toward him. "Thank you," she half whispered.

She released his leg, bid him goodnight, and went to her room.

...

Each evening, Shyla repaired more of his scars. After that first session, they met in her room and he sat on a bench while she healed his body.

For each scar, she repaired nerve endings along with both the shape and texture of his skin. The only thing that remained was discoloration.

At even a slight distance, nobody would know the difference. He would feel a change, though. She hoped he would think of it as an improvement. It should remove the only possible obstacle to his marriage with whatever lady he had chosen. It was likely to be her last gift to him, so she wanted to be very careful to do it thoroughly.

Finally, the only scars remaining were the deep scars on his stomach. His sides, back, legs, arm, shoulders, hand and feet had all been tended.

After dinner and its associated clean-up, she nervously climbed the stairs. Vash had gone up as she finished putting away the last of the dishes, so he might be waiting for her.

He was. She saw him on the bench in her room, wearing pajama bottoms and with his shirt on the bench beside him.

She reached out her hands to him, and he reflexively laid his hands in hers. She used that hold to guide him to his feet, and then the few steps to her bed. "Lay back," she instructed softly. "It will take less energy if you're not using those muscles while I look after that part of your body."

He obediently sat down and lay backward. She sat beside him, closed her eyes, and reached over his stomach to touch his scars as she had each of the prior evenings.

Tonight would be the last night. She'd put off the awareness of the shrinking time with him, refusing to think about it or feel it. The information could not be pushed away any longer, nor could its emotional impact.

They could never be like this again, after he married. It was likely that she would see him even less than before. She knew it was selfish, but it hurt so badly... try as she might, she simply could not contain that pain. Tears welled up in her eyes, and spilled over onto her cheeks.

Slowly, much more slowly than ever before, her fingers gently moved over his skin. She wanted to make this evening last forever, and couldn't bring herself to be efficient.

As her hands moved that direction, he undid the drawstring to his pajama waist, and lowered it enough that she could reach the last of his scars. She whispered thanks into his mind, and continued without a pause.

But another tear streaked down her cheek.

She felt the last of his skin come together, and let her fingers lightly check over his skin for anything she might have missed.

Another tear escaped. (I think that's all,) her thoughts whispered into his mind. She stood, and stepped over to pick up his shirt while he retied his pajama bottoms' drawstring.

She held up his shirt, so he turned to let her put it on. Standing behind him, she slid it up his arms, and settled it on his shoulders. Then, suddenly, her hands were on his chest and she was clinging to him and sobbing brokenheartedly.

It hurt so much, knowing she was sending him away. She hoped he would be happy with his chosen bride, but she couldn't overcome her selfish wish that nothing would ever change and he would come here to be with her as he always had.

"Shyla, dearest," he said, worried. "What's wrong?"

She was sobbing too hard to speak clearly, but she could think. (Now you can go to her,) Shyla's thoughts whispered into his mind, (the lady that you love so much. It won't hurt you to... to... marry her.)

There. She'd told him, sort of. Hopefully Rem would be content with that, when she managed to tell her. She couldn't bring herself to be any more plain, knowing what she did.

"Shyla," he said softly. He tugged on her right hand with his, until she released her hold. She let him lead her to stand in front of him, facing him. He transferred her right hand to his left, and laid his right hand gently on her cheek.

"Dear heart," he whispered both aloud and into her mind, "what foolishness is this? How could I ever want to build a home with anyone but you?"

She blinked at him, uncomprehending. She must have fallen into another dream. Could he possibly have said what she thought she just heard?

He circled her waist with his left arm, and slowly drew her against him for the second time in their lives. (Please,) he thought, and unleashed a love both affectionate and romantic, that even included a measure of physical desire. (Please, marry me?)

Her hands moved up his chest as if of their own accord, and then around behind his neck. She leaned into his embrace. For a dream, this certainly felt real!

(Yes,) she thought toward him. A rush of emotion, both affectionate and romantic, flooded her own soul. There was even an undercurrent of desire, which she couldn't contain. (I will!)

He smiled and gently touched his mouth to hers.

...

Vash opened his eyes, and smiled at Shyla as she finished the story for the night and the children started coming to each of them for their good-night kisses.

Small wonder she'd cried that night. He'd have cried brokenheartedly too, if he'd ever believed as strongly as she did that someone else was wanted. He hoped his own memories would lay that concern to rest forever.


	7. Third Anniversary Night

I do not own Trigun / Vash or Rem: they belong to the incredible Yasuhiro Nightow.

**Third Anniversary Night**

After kissing all of their older children good-night, Vash and Shyla checked on Rem who was looking after the younger ones. She had the girls washed and pajama'd, but the boys were being a bit uncooperative.

"Brad, Livio," Vash said as sternly as he could manage while suppressing laughter at their antics, "Get into that tub _now_."

Shyla took charge of Sheryl and Lina, which was easier with their soon-to-arrive sisters swelling her body. Rem took charge of the boys.

To Vash's delight, that left him free to go upstairs, change into pajamas, and plow through a few more of Shyla's memories.

So he did exactly that.

...

Shyla felt almost dizzy because things seemed to be happening so very fast. Her mind was having difficulty keeping up.

Had he really asked her to marry him? Was he really kissing her mouth? It still seemed unreal, too good to be true.

She wasn't even sure how to kiss back, since she'd never done a mouth-kiss before. She'd never seriously wanted to, until this last month. And then, when she started wanting to kiss romantically, she'd wanted that _only_ with Vash. Somehow, it seemed to be happening. Right now. Was she dreaming, or awake?

She clung to him, feeling the solidity of his body in her arms, and quivered. No dream had ever felt quite this good. Could it possibly be real? She was almost afraid to believe it, because she wanted so badly for it to be true.

He pulled away, pulling her toward the bed. Her stomach lurched, but she couldn't refuse him anything. Thankfully, he seemed only to want her to lie beside him. That she could do without hesitation or regret. She almost sighed.

He encouraged her to rest her head on his right shoulder, as she had in the hospital. She put her arm around his chest, again reveling in the feel of his breathing and heartbeat. He was alive, and close. That was all she wanted out of life just now. She happily snuggled against his side.

His shirt had never been closed or buttoned. Her hand began to stray a little over his chest. His skin was so smooth and pleasant to touch; it was hard to keep her hand still.

The intense stress of that day had worn her out. Before she realized it, she had fallen asleep.

...

She came halfway awake, hearing his voice.

"Good morning, Rem," he said.

"It looks like a fairly wonderful morning to me," she said. Rem was speaking softly, but Shyla could hear the delight in her voice. The way she pronounced her words suggested that she was smiling, too.

Shyla could also feel Vash's delight, very strongly. He might be lying beside her on the outside, but inside he was jumping and shouting for joy. If she weren't still half-asleep, she might be doing something along those lines herself.

"Yes, it is," he agreed. His words sounded like he was smiling outside, too.

"It's about time," Rem said, mock-scolding. "I was beginning to wonder if I'd have to lock you two in a room, sit you down, and tell you both a thing or three."

Vash chuckled, then sobered. "I wanted to be sure I did it right, Rem," he said, "both for her sake, and for mine."

"You're a good man, Vash," Rem said fondly. "You know that, don't you?"

"I try," he said softly. "I'm not sure if I've really succeeded yet, but I keep trying."

Rem laughed softly. "It looks like you're going to have more help with that from now on."

Shyla felt Vash's head turn toward her. A flood of several different kinds of warmth came from him, along with more delight. "Yes," he said.

Shyla felt a warm bloom of affection growing inside her as she listened. She should open her eyes or something, but for some reason she was so sleepy. She was almost drifting as she listened. She liked how he felt, both inside and outside. She never wanted to be away from his side again.

"Speaking of that," he said to Rem, "would you mind terribly seeing if the preacher is awake yet? I'd like to get married today."

Rem laughed again, struggling to keep quiet since she thought Shyla was asleep. "Not wasting any time, are you?" she said.

"You know that I've been waiting for this, afraid it wouldn't happen, for a very long time," he said reprovingly. "We're not children, and this isn't an impulse that will pass. What could possibly be gained by waiting longer?"

"I'll see what I can do," Rem promised.

"Thank you," he said, and Shyla felt him kiss her hair and snuggle just a little as she drifted back into sleep.

...

They eventually got up and breakfasted, much as usual. Rem returned, with news that the preacher was up but wanted to do several months of counseling before performing a marriage.

Vash rolled his eyes. "We've known and loved each other for more than a thousand years," he protested, "even if it hasn't been romantic all of that time. Can he even imagine what that would be like?"

Shyla hugged him, and said, "Perhaps we should talk with him. Second hand, no matter how knowledgeable, wise, and qualified the messenger, simply may not convey readiness to a mind accustomed to certain protocols."

"Yes, we should talk to him," Vash said in a dangerous tone.

"Politely," Shyla suggested.

"I'll be polite," Vash said, in that same dangerous tone of voice.

Rem chuckled. "Oh, I'm certain that you would be, and leave the poor man shaking in his boots at the same time!" she said.

Shyla grinned. "Let's go together," she offered. "It concerns both of us, right?"

"Yes," Vash agreed, but she saw that his jaw was still clenched.

...

Vash fell out of the memories, from laughing so hard.

He _had_ been determined to speak with the preacher, and convince him to do the wedding that day, all right. However, he had no idea he'd looked or sounded so grim. It's not like he was planning to hold a gun to the man's head or anything drastic, for pity's sake!

When he saw the ladies' reactions to his determination, he'd teased them a little by pretending to be all intense when he wasn't. Until seeing it through Shyla's eyes, he'd no idea how well he'd succeeded in alarming them.

Perhaps he still looked grim enough that it helped to convince the preacher. The man had been reluctant, but thankfully, he had also been persuadable.

It took him a few more minutes before his laughter subsided. He wiped tears from his eyes, and settled back again.

Vash remembered what followed very well. Shyla's convalescents had been sent to their homes. They had both put on their best clothes, and Rem had likewise dressed up somewhat more than her usual jeans and shirt.

The reluctant preacher had officiated at their wedding ceremony under the blossoming apple trees, later that same morning. Rem had stood witness, and a few others had gathered to wish them well and take pictures.

He'd felt almost as if he'd grown taller. He'd been so proud as he said his vows, looking into the adoring eyes of his bride as the apple blossom petals rained down on them with each capricious breeze.

His engagement to Shyla had lasted almost exactly fourteen hours, between proposal and wedding.

At the small gathering after the wedding, Rem announced that she would immediately take a two-month nap. After that, she meant to wake up and stay up... provided he planned to stick around. The look she gave him as she said that would likely have convinced him, even if he'd ever had any other plans.

As it so happened, staying with Shyla was _exactly_ what he wanted to do.

Both newlyweds hugged and kissed Rem goodnight, and then went home together.

He closed his eyes to begin experiencing Shyla's perspective on the rest of that day, and found it missing. He sat up, blinking, mildly disappointed.

However, when he thought about it, he wasn't displeased. Truth to tell, he wasn't sure he'd want to share his exact memories of their first physically intimate moments either. Well, at least not in any way other than how they had already shared them, by living through them together.

He remembered that he had _not_ appreciated the shivaree the village folk surprised them with. He did appreciate that it was their way of wishing the newlyweds well. He was glad that interruption came early, before either of them was in a condition to be too badly embarrassed. They were both new enough to such things that it had been going slowly.

They figured it out together, though, after the shivaree. He remembered that, in detail, with a wide grin spread over his face.

He also remembered that the following three weeks had been insanely busy because of an explosion at a neighboring town's factory. So between being busy or separated or exhausted, they'd not had another opportunity to be together in that way until after those three weeks had passed.

So the doctors had no difficulty identifying when the first twins, Rem and Naomi, were conceived. It had to be their wedding day or night.

Shyla entered the room, and flopped down on the bed beside him. She moved closer, until her head rested on his right shoulder. He kissed her hair as she hugged him, and both smiled.

"They're finally all tucked in," she said wearily.

"Good," he said, "thank you."

"You'd better help more actively tomorrow," she said, poking him in the ribs.

He laughed, and caught her fingers with his left hand. "I'll do better, I promise."

She smiled contentedly, both inside and out. "I know you will," she said.

"Have you visited any of my memories yet?" he wondered.

"Only a very little," she said. "It's been a busy day. I was debating between doing that or..." she unbuttoned his pajama top enough to rest her fingertips against his skin.

He smiled, enjoying that sensation and the accompanying suggestion. "I'm good with either," he said.

She sighed. "I think I'm too tired to properly participate in anything active right now," she said sadly.

He hugged her and kissed her again, as they lay side by side on their bed. "It's all right," he said. "We have many tomorrows ahead of us to enjoy that activity and others."

He felt her smile. "Yes," she said. She snuggled against his side, her fingertips gently caressing his skin. "I guess it's a good time for remembering, now."

He lifted her hand to his mouth, and kissed her fingertips. "Anything that happens with you is good," he whispered softly as he put her hand back into its former position.

"As long as you're a part of it," she said.

He felt from her emotional echoes that she was beginning to delve into his memories. He gently hugged her against his side and kissed her hair again.

Then he focused part of his attention on memories, too.

He skipped ahead to when Rem woke.

...

"Good morning, Rem," Shyla said when she opened her eyes.

Rem smiled. "Good morning," she replied. "I hope Vash is still here?"

"We're back, yes," Shyla said. "There was a factory explosion in a nearby town, so we both went to assist. He also had to wrestle some paperwork, to establish _this_ place as his home, and persuade them to give him work nearby."

"Married life seems to agree with you," Rem observed. "You're positively glowing!"

Shyla had smiled, and blushed, and hugged her stomach.

Rem caught the significance of that action. "Already?" she said, delighted.

Shyla nodded. "They think it may be twins," she said.

Rem was on her feet, hugging Shyla. "Congratulations!" She laughed. "I'm going to be a grandma!"

Shyla laughed too, returning Rem's hug. She was glad of Rem's delight, especially since she felt so delighted herself.

Suddenly Rem sobered. "He is good to you, I hope?" she said.

Shyla blinked in surprise at a question she'd never thought to hear Rem ask. "Yes, of course he is!" she said. Then she looked down, blushing again. "Better than I deserve. He's always so thoughtful and gentle."

Rem hugged her again. "I'm sure you're at least as good for him," she said.

Shyla could hear the smile in her voice, and the sincerity. "Thank you for saying so," she said. She laughed at herself. "Sometimes I still fear I'll wake up, and learn this was all only a dream. If it is, I'd rather not wake up."

Rem released her from the hug. "Sweet girl," she said, caressing her cheek, "it's real. You can hold on to that."

Shyla smiled. "I need to finish my shift here, but he's at home waiting for you."

"Is there anything I should know, besides that your family is growing?"

"Vash has been reassigned, at his own request," she said. "He's now an instructor at the academy, to teach recruits how to become a good sheriff, deputy or marshal. He won't be called out of town unless there are some highly unusual circumstances where his skills are essential."

"That's good news," Rem agreed.

"I've also been sworn in," Shyla said. "After the children are grown, we may go out and work together sometimes."

"I think you'd both enjoy that," Rem said. She hugged her again. "I'm so glad you two finally figured things out," she said softly. "There were times when I wondered if you ever would."

"I'll have to do some research," Shyla said. "With children coming, I want to understand how and why plants don't complete adolescence at a certain age. Something else must set off ... certain instincts. I'll be a better parent if I can learn what that is."

Rem nodded. "That could be an interesting study. Let me know if there's anything I can do to assist."

"I will," Shyla promised. "Now you'd best go see Vash before he wanders in here because he's concerned something's amiss. He'd have all the patients excited."

Rem laughed, and hugged her again. "All right, I'll go see him."

...

He remembered when Rem came to him, and the long talk they'd had about life, marriage, and so many other things. Rem seemed almost as happy as he and Shyla about their marriage and their coming child or children.

He looked toward Shyla, still lying beside him with her head on his shoulder. Her fingers on his skin were still, and her breathing had grown deep and even. He smiled and kissed her hair again. He slowly took a deep breath, to inhale and enjoy her scent.

"Pleasant dreams, sweet Mayfly," he whispered.

...

...

...

...

_Vash may or may not ever tell Shyla why he calls her "Mayfly" ... it's from his quote early in Trigun when asked who he was. "I'm a hunter of peace, looking for that elusive mayfly known as love," was his answer. _

_The sequel to this tale is "Disquieting Days"_


End file.
